


Leather and Lace: Logyn Ficlets

by deweydrops



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bubble Bath, Dancing, Drinking, Drunken Confessions, F/M, Fatherhood, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gardens & Gardening, Gen, Gossip, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Heavy Petting, Hurt/Comfort, Lighthouses, Loss, Mild Sexual Content, Not Canon Compliant, Panic Attacks, Past Miscarriage, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Thor (2011), Pregnancy, Regret, Rumors, Scars, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2020-05-31 09:42:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19423411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deweydrops/pseuds/deweydrops
Summary: Just a collection of random ficlets about Loki and Sigyn, not necessarily related to my A Sorta Fairytale series, or to each other, unless otherwise noted. Fluff, angst, little bit of everything. Ongoing.





	1. Garden Party

Sigyn did not drink often, preferring tea over the ale favored by most of the court. When she did, it was reserved for special occasions. Such as tonight, the midsummer festival garden party. With another glass of Vanir wine in hand, Sigyn now wandered the courtyard, stopping to chat with nearly everyone she passed.

Loki generally did not drink much at such events, preferring instead to maintain full control of his faculties. He cared not for allowing himself to be too loose, too vulnerable, where others could see. Watching the others' slowly lower their inhibitions, he found far more interesting. His own goblet, from which he'd sipped slowly for the last few hours, kept the servants away and convinced the others he was just as merry as they. Instead, he observed quietly as the night wore on, in the hopes that perhaps a drunken noble or guard might accidentally reveal some bit of information or another he might find useful.

Yet the festival proved little more than another evening of drunken revelry. As the sun set and the moon rose, illuminating the courtyard in pale light, Loki grew bored of watching the incessant banter and sloppy dancing. By the time Thor and Volstagg broke into yet another drinking song, barely holding one another upright, Loki was well and truly ready to leave the foolishness in the courtyard in favor of more appealing company.

Speaking of which...

He surveyed the courtyard for the distinctive head of red-gold curls until his gaze settled upon her. Glassy eyed and rosy cheeked, Sigyn had now reached the point of giving heartfelt speeches to all she encountered. Nobles, guards, and servants alike were all counted among Sigyn's nearest and dearest after so many drinks, and she relished telling them so. Her shoulders shook now and again as she made herself giggle. At the moment, she'd cornered Hogun by the fountain. The warrior stoically endured Sigyn's rambling, half-slurred praise, nodding now and again until a passing cup-bearer caught her attention.

Loki had been courting her for some time, so while this was not exactly a new side of Sigyn he was seeing, she was certainly at her most unabashedly earnest. Her eyes met his across the courtyard and she beamed, making her way over to the trellis where he stood. 

“Thor!” Sigyn had wandered over to Loki, only to be sidetracked by the older prince. “Have I told you recently how mighty you are?”

“Yes!” Thor enthusiastically agreed.

“...s'maginif...magifiss...how you can fly.”

“Yes!” Thor grinned, nodding with emphatic agreement at each of Sigyn's compliments. He clapped her on the shoulder, nearly knocking Sigyn over.

Loki caught her, holding her steady. A few drops of wine spilled from her goblet, and even upright she still swayed slightly in Loki's arms. “I think it's time we retired, sweetheart.”

“But I'm not done thanking everyone...lovely evening...” Sigyn half-protested, yet allowed Loki to lead her out of the courtyard. He quickly bade the other revelers farewell while supporting Sigyn, who tried to stop for another speech at everyone they passed.

Once they'd left the courtyard, he scooped Sigyn into his arms, carrying her down the palace corridors to his chambers.

“Such a lovely party...” Sigyn murmured, nuzzling Loki's neck. “So many lovely people...”

“Indeed,” said Loki.

“Did you have a lovely time?”

“Yes, darling.”

“ _Essellen_...” Sigyn relaxed in Loki's arms, humming a tune the bards had played earlier that night.

Once they'd reached his chambers, he settled her into onto the bed. He slipped off her shoes and helped her out of her dress and into her cream-colored chemise. As he tugged the ribbon from her plait, gently removing the pins and violets woven into her hair, she leaned against him, giggling.

“That tickles.”

“Almost finished.” Loki trailed his hands through her curls, reluctant to stop. But Sigyn would be in for a major headache in the morning, unless she had some water. And so Loki gathered the discarded flowers and pins and left the bedchamber, searching for an empty glass.

“Loki...” Sigyn called from the bedchamber. “Come back...”

“One moment, darling,” Loki called back, at last finding a glass and filling it with water.

“Loki... _issimportan_...”

“Of course, darling.” Loki hurried back to the bedchamber to see Sigyn staring in alarm at her feet.

“My shoes are missing?”

“Your shoes are on the floor. I took them off a moment ago.” Loki pointed towards the foot of the bed. Sigyn followed her gaze to where her shoes lay, still baffled but satisfied she'd found them.

Loki offered her the water, holding the glass steady while she sipped. When she'd finished, he set the empty glass by the nightstand. Sigyn watch him, eyes warm with affection and a soft smile on her lips.

“Loki?”

“Mmm?”

“I am very fond of someone... I adore them more than anyone else at the party, more than anyone in all the realms. You will never guess who it is.” She said as he eased her back onto the pillows.

Loki smoothed her hair from her face. “And who would that be?”

“ _You_.” She reached out, intending to poke his nose. Her finger landed on the side of his cheekbone.

“Is that so?” Loki stroked her arm, biting back a smile while his cheeks flushed.

“Mmm-hmm,” Sigyn murmured, her eyes half closed. “You're my Loki.”

Loki gazed down at her. His Sigyn. The most exquisite being in the nine realms, and she was here with him. Even flush with drink, her guard completely down, she was sincere in her words. There was no pretense, no guessing with Sigyn. This, he realized, was the true revelation of tonight: Her heart treasured him above all the others. Though he had no idea what he'd done to deserve her.

“I suppose I'm rather fond of you as well, my sweet,” he said softly. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead before draping the covers over her shoulders. “Sleep well.” He stood, stepping away to remove his own formal wear.

“Loki?”

“Yes?”

“You'll lie next to me, right?” She swept her hand over the empty space across from her. “I want you to lie beside me.”

Loki stripped down to his under tunic and breeches. He'd intended to leave her in his bed while he took the divan in the other room – it was the gentlemanly thing to do, after all- yet her pleading eyes gave him pause. In her own sweet, cheerful way, she could be quite hard to resist.

“Of course, darling.” He moved in beside her, laying back while Sigyn wasted no time curling up against his side.

By now Sigyn had nearly succumbed to slumber. “I want you to lie beside me for the rest of my life,” she sighed into his shoulder, eyes closed.

Loki draped his arm over her, listening to her breathing. In the quiet dark, he considered her request. Though he generally considered himself far too mercurial in nature to ever fully commit to any long-term plans without growing dissatisfied, the prospect of the rest of his nights unfolding not unlike this one did not stifle him. In fact, the idea pleased him very much.

Whether or not she'd remember saying such a thing in the morning, he could not say. But even so, he already had an answer. He leaned over and kissed the shell of her ear.

“As you wish.”


	2. Reticence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Sigyn get cozy after revealing their true feelings for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally intended an epilogue of Magic, but I liked where the conclusion as is, even though it's fun to imagine what exactly Loki and Sigyn got up to after the feast.

Sigyn waited in the antechamber of Loki's rooms, as he'd requested. She tugged at the gold belt around her waist, tracing over the edges. She smoothed down the front of her unwrinkled dress. Though she'd spent many hours alone with the prince in these very chambers, a strange mix of both eagerness and reticence overtook her. Until tonight she'd never even been properly kissed. And though she enjoyed it very much, she wondered what else Loki might wish to do now that they were no longer hiding their true feelings. She wondered just how much she was ready for.

The golden doors opened. Loki entered the antechamber, striding over to Sigyn. “Terribly sorry for the delay,” he said with an impish grin. “Now, where were we?”

He wasted little time pulled her back into his arms, tilting her head back as he kissed her again. This time, much more deeply than in the garden. As though he was not just touching her, he was _exploring_ her.

Surprised, it took her a moment to throw her hands over his shoulders, gently sliding down the length of his arms. Her sense of self, of where her body ended and Loki's began, blurred as Loki caressed her back, her waist, her hips in ways she'd never been touched before.

_By the Norns I am glad he is holding me up_ , Sigyn thought. _For my own legs have betrayed me._

He lead her to the divan, where she fell into the cushions as he slid over her. Loki always possessed an undercurrent of intensity, deep depths of fervor and single-minded focus, yet to have such unrestrained ardor aimed solely at _her_ proved overwhelming. An involuntary whimper resonated from her throat.

Loki looked down at her, worry in his eyes. “Is this alright?”

Sigyn caught her breath. “Uh-huh,” she managed.

He pressed his forehead against hers. “Shall we continue?”

Sigyn paused, for as much pleasure as he brought her she still hesitated to go much further this night.

“I'm not quite...sure...” She cleared her throat. “I've, I've never actually-”

“Ah,” Loki replied. “Not ready for _canoodling_ , are we?” He cupped her chin. “Very well, we shall not make haste until you wish it. I've no shortage of other ways to enjoy you.” His lips returned to hers, much more gentle this time.

Reassured, Sigyn allowed her own desire to guide her forward, taking time to explore Loki as he had with her. Enigmatic as he appeared on the surface, she found him quite pliant under her embrace, allowing her to touch him here and there.

Her reticence all but vanished when he dipped his mouth beneath her jawline, finding a sensitive spot on her neck. She moaned. Loki chuckled against her skin, working at her neck with more fervor. His teeth just barely nipped at the tender areas. She loosened the bodice of her dress, exposing her shoulders to allow him better access.

“Ooh,” Loki paused in his ministrations, running a finger along her newly-freed skin.

Sigyn tilted her head. “What?”

“As I suspected,” Loki continued studying her shoulders, sliding the neckline of Sigyn's dress back further to reveal her upper arms. “You've even more freckles.”

Sigyn glanced down at her arms, at the little spots that earned her mockery in her youth and she tried to keep covered, though the ones across her nose and cheeks couldn't be helped. Hardly the immaculate, unblemished skin of the court ladies Loki was no doubt used to.

“You don't...mind, do you?” She fingered the edge of her bodice, ready to pull it back in place.

“Why should I mind these little sundrops? I find them charming,” said Loki, tracing the darkened spots across her collarbone. “Just as I find you charming, sweet one.”

His hair had worked its way out of whatever concoction he'd used to straighten it, and now fell over his eyes and across his forehead in dark waves. Sigyn could not resist burying her hands into the ebony strands. Heavy yet surprisingly soft, the inky curls wrapped themselves around her fingers.

_I could get used to this_ , Sigyn thought as they continued, her body pressed between the cushions and Loki's weight. _I could very much get used to this._

When passion gave way to drowsiness of the late hour, and her lips swollen and red, Sigyn rested her head against Loki's chest. His heart beat beneath his tunic, and the low rhythm lulled her eyes closed.

“Sweetheart?” She opened her eyes at Loki gently shaking her shoulder.

“It is quite late, would you like to return to your chamber?” Loki ran his thumb across her cheekbone. “Also I find myself quite stiff from laying still.”

Sigyn straightened. Though she was quite comfortable where she was, and loathe to leave Loki, for tonight she wished to return to her own space. No need to rush through all her firsts. They had all the time in the nine realms, after all.

Loki stood first, helping Sigyn up. Her dress now wrinkled and quite loose, Loki draped a spare cloak over her shoulders, as she was too tired to concern herself with fixing her stay laces.

They walked through the quiet palace in comfortable silence until they stopped at the door to her chamber. Here, Loki bowed, taking hold of her hand. “Sweet Lady Sigyn, I find your company most agreeable. Thank you for a lovely evening. I bid thee a good night and sweet dreams.” His lips brushed the top of her hand.

Blushing, Sigyn curtsied in return. “Your majesty is most welcome.”

Loki kissed her one last time before departing. Sigyn leaned against the wall, watching as he vanished down the corridor, still feeling his lips on hers, her body against his, his scent in the air around her. When she no longer heard his footsteps in the silent hall, she slipped into her chamber.

Her dreams that night were very sweet indeed.


	3. Tranquility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Sigyn share a quiet moment in the bath. Set post-IW/EG, with Loki surviving Thanos' attack.

“Loki?”

Sigyn called into the cottage, pushing the front door open with her shoulder. Her arms, heavy with books and a paper bag filled with bread, cheese and vegetables, just barely allowed her to finagle the key into the lock and twist. She glanced around, finding the cottage strangely quiet.

“Dearest? I'm home,” She called again, poking her head into the kitchen, then the living room, then the study, then the bedroom with a growing alarm until she spotted the light from the half-opened bathroom door and looked inside. Her worry vanished at the scene before her.

Loki, reclining against the rim of the tub, submerged save for his neck and shoulders, and his knees poking up above the water further down. His eyes closed, head tilted back, the ends of his hair floating in the water, his chest rising and falling slowly, one arm draped over the tub's edge, the other over his lap. Steam rose from the water, fogging the mirror and dampened the pile of discarded green clothing at the tub's base. The light scent of tea tree oil and vanilla hung in the warm air.

It was a rare sight: Loki, unguarded, vulnerable, relaxed and splendidly nude. The deep sense of peace, of contentment that had long evaded Loki made Sigyn pause at the doorway to take it all in. Such a tranquil display from Loki would have been unthinkable even a year ago.

So many things were different now. Some things Sigyn wished she could change: the loved ones they'd lost, their former home now a distant memory, the horrors Loki endured, the nightmares and panic attacks he still suffered even after Thanos' last breath. The way his neck and arm sometimes gave him trouble even after the long recovery. There was no magic in the realms that could take his pain away, save for time and patience.

Bit by bit they were slowly building a new life for themselves out of the scraps that remained. A little kingdom of their own. And with the newfound freedom to do as they pleased, away from the crushing expectations of the throne, Odin's cruelties, or threat of other dangers, Loki was truly starting to heal. Watching him now brought a smile to Sigyn's lips and thankful tears to her eyes.

Hard as it was to pull away, Sigyn turned to let Loki rest undisturbed.

“Darling?”

Sigyn glanced over her shoulder. “Sorry to rouse you, my love. Enjoy your bath.”

Loki lifted his head, wincing slightly. “I would enjoy it far more with your company.”

The bath in their new cottage was much smaller than the one they'd had on Asgard, but they'd overcome far greater obstacles to stay together. Surely a minor inconvenience would not stop her keeping him company. “You shall have it, my prince. I will be right back.”

Sigyn turned with two goblets of wine and the stepping stool from the kitchen. She handed Loki a glass, noting the fading pink scars on his skin as he stretched slightly within the tub's confines. Sigyn sat back on the stool, resting the her elbow on the rim of the tub, lightly massaging Loki's stiffened neck. Loki leaned into her touch, sighing lightly as he told her about his day. A quiet one, with no notable occurrences, no adventures, no foes. Sigyn happily listened, hoping for many more such days ahead. After all they'd endured, it was precisely what they wanted.


	4. Growth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A painful memory leads to a peaceful moment in the garden. Post IW/EG, with a happy ending.

Loki slammed shut the volume of Pythagoras he'd been reading, pausing to massage his wrist. His left arm had locked up again, causing a shooting pain along the bone despite the healing. He grimaced, both from the pain and the influx of unwelcome memories the ache conjured.

He closed his eyes, pushing out thoughts of Thanos, of pain, of destruction, of loss. Breaths. Slow, deep breaths. He forced himself to fill his lungs all the way before exhaling, quelling the rapid pace of his heart. His mind pushed past the phantom pain of a massive hand crushing his wrist, rifling through other memories to re-direct his focus.

He found himself recalling, of all things, the royal garden. Specifically, the refuge it offered from the feasts. From the prying eyes of the court. There had been so many feasts, so many parties in the golden halls. All blurred together now, near indistinguishable from one another. All long, ostentatious displays he cared little for. As prince his presence was expected, and so he'd spend the long evenings waiting until he could take his leave. Back then, he'd found them profoundly dull. Save for a few notable occasions, such as when he'd first kissed Sigyn. Or asked for her hand.

For Sigyn had always been the true occasion Loki celebrated. Once she came long, feasts became a quiet game of stolen glances, soft touches, and patiently waiting for the moment he could steal her away from the grand hall and into the garden. There, they'd enjoy the hard-won privacy, dancing in the quiet solitude with only the flowers for company. It was these moments where he'd truly come to know happiness.

The pain and fear quelled for now, Loki opened his eyes, fighting down tears that threatened to spill. He surveyed his surroundings. Soft rays of the morning sun seeped in through the windows, warm breezes against his skin. A simple cottage beside a small lake, in remote Midgard. Peace. Solitude. Home.

Loki sighed, shaking off the lingering nerves as he lightly flexed his wrist. The stiffened joints gradually returned to normal. He leaned back in his chair, noting the fabric beneath him, the leather-bound book under his fingers, the simple furnishings of dark green and touches of pastel here and there...

The lilting melody just barely reaching his ears.

Sigyn was singing. Her gentle voice flowed in through the open window. It was a habit of hers he'd discovered by accident long ago. Absorbed in a task, she'd sing to herself as she worked. Something she'd sing old melodies from her childhood, or the occasional Midgardian tune. And sometimes she'd come up with her own stream-of conscious little ditties about whatever she was doing at the moment, as she was now. And though no one would mistake her for Asgard's finest vocalist, Loki enjoyed the rare opportunities to hear her melodies. She never sang if she knew someone might hear her. He stood quietly by the window, listening. If she heard him nearby, she'd stop.

He stepped outside, overlooking the small green expanse of their new home. Sigyn was crouched over the grass, surrounded by soil, seeds, and trowels. Ever the farmer's daughter, she'd been planting since the ground thawed. First herbs, then flowers here and there, adding little patches of color to the landscape. At the moment, she tended to budding chrysanthemums, using her magic to shine warm, golden light on the ones struggling to bloom in the shade. Under her care, the wilted flowers unfurled, growing stronger and brighter as they basked in her glow. Mid-song, she was still oblivious to his presence.

“That is called cheating, my sweet,” Loki said, coming up behind her.

Sigyn's melody ceased. She turned, peering up at him from beneath her sunhat.

“According to _someone_ I know,” she replied, a knowing quirk of her eyebrow, “it's called _using all the resources at my disposal to prevail over my obstacles._ ”

“Ah, a wise man, I'm sure,” Loki winked.

Sigyn tilted her head. She'd sensed his lingering distress and her eyes filled with concern. “Another flashback?” she asked softly.

He drew his breath, ready to deny. It was a reflex he'd cultivated over the centuries, to hide his fears, his vulnerability. And with most people, he would deny still. But Sigyn was not, nor had she ever been, most people.

He nodded. “A brief one, yes.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Better, now.” He cupped her chin reassuringly and knelt down beside her. The scent of damp, newly turned soil mixed with the delicate aroma of the flowers, reminding Loki of Asgard's early spring. “You've been busy, I see,” Loki said, looking over Sigyn's progress.

“I forgot just how much work this is,” Sigyn said, stretching her legs. She wiped away beads of sweat that dotted her forehead.

“Well, it has been a few centuries since you've had to tend to a garden yourself.” Indeed, since she'd come to the palace, Loki had seen to it she hadn't wanted for anything she desired. Part of him still ached to know those days had come to an abrupt end, though Sigyn remained optimistic as always. She missed their old home, but focused her time into cultivating a new one.

“I hope it's turning out alright,” Sigyn remarked.

“It's beautiful,” Loki replied, idly tracing the petals of a nearby chrysanthemum. “It's ours.”

“I still need to add some lilies.”

“All in good time,” said Loki, caressing her shoulders. “Time for a break, I think.” He rose, offering his hand.

Sigyn hesitated, glancing down at her dirt-smudged fingers. Loki traced the top of her knuckles, lightly grasping her hand and lifting her to her feet. She smoothed her wrinkled clothing as Loki pulled her close. He tilted her chin upward, tipping her hat from her head. It slid to the ground, exposing her beautiful face and freeing her curls. He wrapped an arm over her waist, while interlocking his free hand with hers. Though the morning air was near silent, he lead her in a haphazard dance among the budding garden. Sigyn giggled softly as they swayed together, relaxing into his embrace.

“Oh? What brought this on, my prince?” she asked.

Loki paused. He looked over his wife, gently running his thumb over her cheekbone. Unlike the lingering apparitions of his mind, she was real. Tangible. Constant. He'd come so close to losing her, as he'd lost so much, but against all odds, she was still here. With him. And he never wanted to let her go. He pressed his lips over hers before answering:

“Because you're here.”


	5. Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn comforts Loki in the aftermath of a panic attack.

Sigyn lifted the whistling tea kettle from her little stove, twisting the strange knob until the fire below vanished. She poured the steaming water into two little cups, adding just the right amount of lemon and chamomile to steep. Behind her, Loki sat listless on the sofa, curled beneath the blanket over his shoulders, hair disheveled, faint tear tracks still visible from his red-rimmed eyes. On his face, a several emotions in one look: Fragile. Lost. Ashamed.

_Panic attacks._ It was what the mortals called incidents such as those that had plagued Loki since he'd returned to her a fallen prince and failed conqueror. Here, they were considered not uncommon among mortals who'd suffered a great deal. On Asgard such incidents were simply labeled “madness” and the afflicted person avoided unless the fits were too severe, then they were simply shut away. Though Loki still shied away from talking about his panic attacks, discussing his inner troubles, it gave Sigyn a small comfort to know that phenomenon had a name, that Loki was not alone in his suffering.

And last night's incident had been particularly severe, with Loki thrashing awake from a nightmare only to retreat into the bathroom for a long while. Sigyn heard his anguished cries and the water running from behind the door. She'd found him huddled on the ground, breathless, and he'd clung to her as though he were drowning.

She'd finally managed to coax him out of the bathroom and into the small living room, placing him on the sofa. They'd sat in silence in the pre-dawn morning, Sigyn massaging Loki's shoulders, neck, and scalp until his breathing slowed and his heart settled. She'd asked if he'd wanted to talk about it, but he'd only shook his head, and so they sat awhile longer, until he softly asked for tea.

In the kitchen, she focused on preparing the tea, keeping an eye on Loki, who hadn't said a word. Her heart filled with sorrow that he'd suffered so much. She wished she could fight away that demons that tormented him now, phantoms with names like Kurse and The Other and Ebony Maw.

And Thanos.

Her jaw clenched at the last name. For the longest time all she'd known of the Mad Titan was that he'd taken her beloved, sweet prince and turned him into someone he'd never wanted to be. Loki never spoke of his time after his fall from the Bifrost, but she knew the horrors well from his night terrors and flashbacks and scars. And though the titan and all the others were well and truly dead, their images still harmed Loki, looming like shadows beneath their budding new life together. For all her power and skill, Sigyn simply could not save Loki from his own mind, his own memories. Not could she reverse past and stop Loki falling in the first place, however she might wish to.

And so in times like these, Sigyn focused on the things she could do for Loki, though they never seemed enough. Like the tea. The massages. Staying with him through the early morning hours so he wouldn't have to relive the pain alone. Slicing a piece of the apple cake she knew he liked and placing it beside his teacup.

She brought the tea and cake over to Loki, who accepted it with a barely audible “thank you” though he merely ran his finger along the teacup rim, lost in his thoughts. Sigyn sat beside him, adjusting the blanket back over his shoulders.

The sun began to rise in the sky, brightening the many colored leaves that littered the ground, though the early autumn are remained quite brisk. The seasons changed so rapidly on Midgard, Sigyn mused. It seemed mere days ago all the garden flowers had just bloomed. Midsummer just a moment ago. It reminded her how fleeting and tenuous so much of the universe could be. 

“Would you like to sit outside?” Sigyn asked, hoping the tangible reminder of their new surroundings would help ease his distress. "The sun will rise soon."

Loki followed her out to the porch, and they sat on the steps, watching the sun finished its ascent. Little puffs of fog formed in the air before them as they breathed in the cold morning. Sigyn poked the dried, fallen leaves with her foot, enjoying the little _crisp-crisp_ sound they made. 

“It's over,” Loki murmured, eyes downcast.

Sigyn looked up. “Over?”

“All of it,” Loki went on. “Save for the madness. It will not go away.”

Sigyn grasped Loki's hand. “You must have more patience with yourself. It, too, will pass.”

Loki gave a soft, bitter chuckle. “If I were stronger...”

A thick lock of hair fell to the side of Loki's face, blocking his eyes from Sigyn's view. She tucked it back behind Loki's ear. “You have suffered in ways few could even begin to imagine. You have endured horrors that would break most men-”

“I was not to be _most men_ ,” Loki retorted, turning to face her with shame in his eyes. “I was a prince. Born to be a king. A god. Above _most men_.” He fought back tears as he spoke. “Yet look at me. Broken. Disgraced. Tormented by my own mind.”

“Oh, Loki,” Sigyn breathed. “Your troubled mind does not mean you are weak. Only that you must allow yourself to recover. Even the fiercest warrior must heal a broken bone. It is a sign they have survived battle. You will heal, too.”

Loki opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated, as though he feared what she'd say next. Sigyn squeezed the top of his hand, coaxing him to speak his heart.

“And if I do not?” He asked, a look of pleading vulnerability in his eyes. “Will I still be your prince?”

“Of course,” Sigyn replied warmly, caressing his cheek. “Even if we were paupers living in a shack with nothing but rags, you would still be my prince,” Sigyn said. She cupped his face with her hands, bringing his head down until their foreheads were touching. “My Loki. My prince. Always.”

Their lips met. Hers gentle, reassuring. His tentative, needing. When they parted, a delicate smile grace Loki's lips for the first time that day.


	6. Tempest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Sigyn seek shelter in the midst of a summer storm. Set pre-Thor.

They were walking back to the palace in the late afternoon, having spent most of the day out near the coast, where the elders of the villages had invited them to enchant their boats from harm during the upcoming fishing season. It was a yearly tradition, thought to ensure a bountiful catch and good weather for the fishermen. Loki had represented the royal family at this event many times, but it was Sigyn's first year attending at his side.

It was but one of many royal duties for Loki and Sigyn. Since they'd wed, the citizens of Asgard had taken quite an interest in their new princess. The royal couple had made more public appearances over the past year than Loki had ever made on his own. Thus, they welcomed any private time they could spend together, away from prying eyes, such as now as they wandered along the forested pathways by the coast. And though there were still duties to attend to upon their return, Loki felt no imperative to hear another roaring match between Odin and Thor. Nor was Sigyn particularly eager to be prodded by Frigga's seamstresses for more gowns. The warm summer day descended into evening, leaving brisk breezes while the sun set, and they took their time on their journey home.

Sigyn toyed with the small boar figurine the elders had gifted her. Carved from rose quartz with intricate details, she admired the skill the artisan had put into it. “Truly a lovely token,” she remarked. “The elders told me it was a symbol of good fortune.”

“It's also a talisman of fertility,” said Loki, with a slight wink.

“Oh!” Sigyn blushed, returning the boar to her pocket.

Loki chuckled. “Such things should hardly shock you now, my sweet.”

“Not shocked,” Sigyn protested, though the color of her cheeks betrayed her. “Only puzzled. I swear most of Asgard is far more preoccupied with my womb than I am.”

Loki ruffled her hair. “A customary gift for a young bride. Though I do question the efficacy of a mere trinket. Shall we test it?”

Sigyn giggled, forgetting for now the expectations of the court. Loki had that effect on her, to ease her concerns, make her leave her troubles, even for a little while. They walked on in easy silence.

By now large, dark clouds loomed overhead above the treeline. A deep rumble of thunder echoed over the coast. It was followed by a crack of lightning. Droplets of water pattered through the trees, eventually hitting the ground.

Sigyn furrowed her brow. “I don't believe the weather casters were expecting storms today.”

“No, they were not,” Loki replied, his eyes on the sudden change. The wind picked up, jostling his dark hair free from its fastidiously groomed style. They hurried down the path, though the rain only fell harder and heavier. They were far enough from the nearest shelter that there were few options to find a reprieve from the storm.

“I swear, if this is your brother's doing-”

“Not Thor,” Loki called over the crashing thunder. “His outbursts are limited to the courtyards.”

The rain poured in thick sheets, flowing over the streets in waves and filling every dip and valley in the ground with muddied puddles. They kept moving in the darkness, though the heavy rain clouded their vision. Loki grasped Sigyn's hand, pulling her along.

Pellets of hardened ice joined the deluge, pelting them from all sides. Thick mud obscured the roads where it wasn't flooded. Before long the paths were far too wet and slick to traverse, the sky too dark to see. The mud trapped Sigyn's boots, nearly pulling them off as she tried to lift her feet.

A powerful flash of lightning struck a nearby tree, sending it crashing down in front of them. Loki and Sigyn just missed being hit as it toppled onto the path, blocking their way. With the main way back to the palace obstructed, they now moved to find even a temporary respite from the rain.

The storm showed no signs of abating, in fact the crashes of thunder and lightning only grew stronger with the wind speed as the clouds covered the sky. In the distance, they spied a light shining in the darkness over the sea, and moved towards it.

After far more running, and plenty of sloshing through the wet and mud, they came to a clearing on the rocky coastline. Just a few yards away stood a lighthouse, its beacon cast over the waves of the sea. Aside from the shining light, there seemed no signs that the shelter was otherwise occupied.

“Can we enter?” Sigyn asked. “We know not whose lighthouse this is.”

“All the buildings on Asgard belong to us, after a fashion,” said Loki. “At any rate, the lighthouses have functioned on their own for some time. Such structures are rarely occupied full time anymore. Just occasional maintenance.” His hand moved towards the door. It slid open with little effort.

They stepped inside, shuddering with relief at dry warmth within. Sigyn peeled off the dripping, muddied skirts plastered to her legs, along with her boots, and tunic. Her garments were soaked through, so she undressed until she was down to her smallclothes. By the time she finished, Loki was similarly stripped down. They smiled at each other for a moment, glad to be free of the heavy garments plastered to their skin. She shuddered in the dark while Loki located the fireplace. In an instant the fires light the small room in a deep, warm glow.

Loki returned, unfolding a nearly threadbare blanket. “Not much, but it will suffice,” he said, draping it over her shoulders. He lifted her hair over the fabric, gently squeezing the excess water from her strands. She trembled still under his embrace, chilled by both the rain and haunting winds from outside.

“Get warm, sweetheart,” Loki murmured, though he was still quite drenched. The ends of his wet hair tickled Sigyn's cheek as he bent down to kiss her. “I shall return shortly.” Sigyn stepped over the pooling puddles of rain and discarded clothing, taking a spot before the fireplace. Loki ascended the spiraling staircase that lead to the top of the lighthouse.

Sigyn huddled beneath the worn blanket, eyes on the fire. All around, lightning flashed, illuminating the round room for a briefest moment, before vanishing back to darkness, followed by thunder that shook the very walls. Rationally, she knew there was no real danger, yet the atmosphere reminded her of so many ghost stories she'd heard as a child, how almost all started out with scenes exactly like this. A dark night, a tempest, an abandoned shelter...including the one that took place in a lighthouse such as this. Only stories, she told herself. The lightning struck again.

She glanced up at the spiraling staircase, wondering where Loki had gone. He'd gone up the steps, but had not returned in some time. He couldn't have gone far, yet the solitude amid the raging storm in the strange lighthouse made her uneasy.

“Loki?” She stared up the staircase, seeing only the dark as it turned up the lighthouse. Tentatively, she crept up the steps, clutching the blanket over her shoulders. She climbed all the way up the endless stairs, at last reaching the top.

She spied Loki standing at the top of the tower, just underneath the beacon. His hair blew in the powerful winds, almost cloaked in the darkness. His hands gripped the railings, and his eyes fixed on the view before him.

“Loki?” Sigyn stepped in closer, finally getting his attention. He pulled his eyes away from the storm and motioned for her to stand by him. She hesitated. Up high on the lighthouse, this vantage point revealed the full power of the tempest. And though it was beautiful, in a chaotic, destructive way, it's sheer force unnerved her.

“It's alright, love,” said Loki. He held out his hand. “You'll be safe.”

Sigyn took hold of Loki's hand, and took the first few steps out on to the precipice at the top of the lighthouse. Loki guided her forward, sweeping his arms around her waist and moving in behind her, allowing her to see the view.

Before them, the full power of the storm crashed in the sky. The sheets of rain and mist clouded the city below, with only the brightest of lights visible from the palace. Immense waves crashed against the rocky shores, sending seafoam high into the air. The raw fury of it all both awed and intimidated her.

“Entrancing, isn't it?” Loki's voice in her ear lured her from her trance. He tightened his embrace around her waist, letting her know she was secure in his arms. “The sheer power of nature, forces far beyond anything we could create with our own hands. Squelching the illusion of order. Of control. Mocking the artifice of our rules.”

Sigyn jumped at a boom of thunder directly overhead. Loki's breath tickled the back of her neck as he chuckled. “The forces have no wish to harm you, love. No matter the stories.”

“Hmm?”

“You were thinking of it, yes?”

Sigyn glanced over her shoulder at Loki. “Of what?”

“The lighthouse tale.”

Sigyn nodded, smiling at how well Loki seemed to know her thoughts. “Indeed I was... it was why I sought you.”

Loki steadied her shoulders, his attention now well away from the chaos and onto her. He looked into her eyes as though he'd found something in them, something that kept him anchored amid his own turmoil. “Your fancies betray you from time to time, my sweet one.” He stroked her jawline before tilting her head up for a kiss. “Yet you have only to look before you. For I that is where I will always be.”

They stood, well above the city, watching the raging storm from beneath the warm light of the beacon. In time, Sigyn's skin broke into gooseflesh, and the dropping temperatures caused her to shiver under Loki's arms. Though Loki seemed impervious to the impending chill, he guided Sigyn back inside, back to the glowing fire. There, they laid back and gave in to the beckoning of other forces of nature.

As the morning hours approached, the storm settled into a gentle rain that clinked against the windows. The damaged trees were being cleared from the pathways, the daylight slowly peeked through the clouds.

High up in the lighthouse, Loki and Sigyn scarcely noticed the outside world. Huddled close beneath the sheets, wrapped in each other's arms, passions spent over the long night, they were too absorbed in their own world for any other concern.

“Do you think the boar talisman worked?” Sigyn mused, working her fingers through Loki's dark waves.

Loki's eyes roamed over her body. “Well, we've certainly increased its odds of success, haven't we?” He bowed his head and nipped the skin at her neck. “Though....one can never be too sure...”


	7. Like Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn's pregnancy unveils Loki's complicated feelings towards fatherhood. Post- EG.

The house was quiet.

Which was not unusual, but as Loki approached, Sigyn did not appear at the doorway nor rush out to greet him. He did not regard her absence as a slight, but lately any deviation from usual patterns of behavior put Loki on edge. After so many agonizing years spent trying to survive among enemies, his senses were attuned to his surroundings in ways he wished he could shut off. Even something so innocuous as a quiet house flooded his mind with the worst possible vision of what he might find inside.

He'd returned from a brief sojourn to New Asgard, though he was loathe to leave Sigyn alone. Now he opened the front door to find no sign of her.

“Sigyn?” he called into the silence. His instincts told him there were no traces of struggling. As he stepped into their living room and his gaze fell upon a familiar figure draped in pale pink fabric that slipped from her shoulders.

Sigyn curled up in a ball on the end of their sofa, her head resting between her arm and the book she'd been reading. Her hair fell over her shoulder, concealing her face like a curtain. Her shoulders rose and fell in a deep, even rhythm, never stirred as Loki came closer.

He lifted the curtain of her hair, revealing a sound asleep Sigyn, her eyes shut, a small smile on her lips, a picture of serenity. The soft swell of her expanding belly visible under her tunic, giving a hint of what grew inside her.

The sight made Loki stop, kneeling before his resting wife. He loved how she looked when she slept, the way her features relaxed, the warmth she radiated. The way she seemed so pleased by whatever visions her dreams brought her. She tired so easily lately, her body so preoccupied with nursing the two new occupants. Even her magic slowed, concentrated on protecting the small, fragile lives within.

Their sons.

His sons.

His two sons.

The thought have him pause. Ever since they'd discovered Sigyn carried not one, but two boys within her, the already daunting prospect of fatherhood at times overwhelmed him. Why the Norns had chosen to bestow such a duty upon him he did not know. After all he'd done, after all the pain he'd endured, after he'd grown to seethe with resentment his own brother, forced to compete for their father's limited affections. Why gift him with sons?

He caressed Sigyn's cheek. She stirred at his touch, sighing dreamily through she did not wake. She'd hesitated to tell him about her pregnancy, keeping quiet for some time. Loki's dormant insecurity had flared at that, albeit briefly, as he'd feared that she, too, doubted his suitability as a father. But Sigyn had been beset by fears of her own, memories of her miscarriage flooding back, that devastating night and long months of mourning after. Only recently had she lifted her cautious hope and allowed herself to feel the true excitement of the pregnancy. 

He lifted the fallen blanket back over her shoulders and slid the book out from underneath her arm.

“Mmm... reading that...” Sigyn murmured drowsily, reaching out for the confiscated book. Her eyes still closed. “Not finished...”

“Reading without using one's eyes?” Loki teased quietly. “That is a rare skill indeed, my love.” He set the book on the nearby table.

Sigyn's eyes fluttered open. She stretched, working out the stiffness in her neck. Red marks crossed her the side of her face where the pages had pressed against her skin. “I'm so glad you're back.”

“As am I,” Loki replied. He took a seat beside Sigyn, pulling her into his arms. “Go back to sleep, if you wish.”

Sigyn eased into his lap. “At this rate I may well sleep through the rest of my pregnancy and the twins shall be here when I wake.” She rested her head against Loki's shoulder.

_The twins shall be here_. The phrase reverberated through Loki's mind. No matter how much more time they had, he'd never be ready for when they arrived. For when they turned from abstract concepts into actual, living, breathing sons. Their children.

“...how was New Asgard?” Sigyn asked, a soft look in her eyes.

“Well enough.” _What little remained of it._ Visits to New Asgard were difficult for Sigyn. Hard for both of them, really. But after such visits Sigyn would be bereaved and given into crying fits for days on end, grieving the loss of their old home, their kingdom, their people now reduced to a tiny, remote village. She had not accompanied him this time, for he feared the stress it caused her may harm their unborn children. Yet her love for her people remained strong, and she asked after their well-being, providing whatever aid she could.

Sigyn traced her finger along the hem of her skirt. “Did you see Thor?”

“Briefly. Ran off with his new companions.” Again, thought Loki, brushing aside the needling thought: _Is_ _he avoiding me?_

Sigyn furrowed her brow. “He does not yet know?”

“No,” said Loki. “I suppose he'll find out soon enough.” _Would Thor even care?_ His eyes welled, though he kept his gaze away from Sigyn until the threat of tears subsided. They'd been so close, so long ago. And though they'd recently worked their way to somewhat better terms, Loki suspected the damage was ultimately irreparable. _I know nothing of fatherhood or brotherhood. What good will I be?_

His hand rested against Sigyn's stomach, just over the small bump where the twins lay. Sigyn's magic formed a force field around them, but their own magic simmered just beneath hers, growing stronger at his touch.

“Oh!” Sigyn yelped.

Loki drew his hand back. “What's wrong?”

Sigyn glanced at her belly. “Nothing. They...they sensed you. They know their father is near. I felt it.”

Loki studied his hand, disbelieving. “You're certain?”

Sigyn nodded eagerly. “Try it again.”

Loki gingerly returned his hand to her stomach. Sure enough, two small forces of magic- one pale green, the other a pale yellow- pushed through Sigyn's protective barrier to greet his. The four forces met at the surface of Sigyn's stomach, meeting for the first time. A tear escaped his eye as he sensed the twins, met their magic with his own.

Pure love.

It shattered his heart.

It shattered knowing he and Thor had been ripped apart long before his coronation. Knowing neither Odin nor Laufey had never harbored any such sentiment toward him as he felt now for his sons. Knowing he would be picking up the pieces of his psyche long after he should have been free of Odin's iron grip. Knowing his family history would only repeat itself.

“Loki?” Sigyn glanced up at him. “What troubles you, my love?”

“It can't last.” Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away. The two small forces receded back. Loki dropped his eyes and looked away.

Sigyn cupped Loki's chin and gently turned his head to face her. “What can't last?”

“This,” said Loki. He shook his head. “No matter how close they are, they will turn on each other in time. Just like Thor and I.”

“Oh Loki,” Sigyn breathed. “You mustn't allow the past to spoil your future. We can learn from it.”

Loki closed his eyes and tilted his head back. Try as he might to share Sigyn's optimism, visions of the two boys feuding, competing, suffering because of him clouded his mind. Even if he did everything he thought best, his sons could end up as he and Thor were now. Even worse off, perhaps. The more he envisioned, the more inevitable the doomed future seemed.

“Loki, listen to me,” said Sigyn. She straightened to meet Loki's eyes. He gazed down at her. “They will not be like you and Thor.” She clasped Loki's upper arms with firm reassurance. “Because you will not be like Odin. The sons of Loki will never have reason to question your love.”

“Sigyn, I've no idea how to be a proper father. You've seen how I was raised.”

Sigyn considered his words. “You certainly do have a rather unique perspective,” she conceded, drawing a soft laugh from Loki. “But you are far better equipped for this than you think. You know what it is to feel unloved. Cast out. You can be the loving father you never had. And if you ever feel uncertain, simply ask yourself 'What would Odin do?' Then do the opposite.”

Loki smiled, reassured by Sigyn's faith in him. “And will you stop me if you catch me acting like Odin?”

“I cannot imagine you ever do doing so, but you have my word. No children of mine shall suffer the way you did.”

His heavy heart lifted, Loki pulled Sigyn into a long, deep kiss. This was his family. This was his home. They would raise their sons they way they wanted to. The pain and strife would end. Odin would cause no more trouble in their lives. When he released Sigyn, she eased back against Loki's shoulder, a protective hand over her belly. Loki rested his hand over hers. He nuzzled the top of her head, breathing in her warm, lavender scent.

“Although,” Sigyn spoke up a moment later, gazing up at him. “Would it truly be so horrible if our sons did end up like you?” She brushed Loki's hair back from his eyes. “If they grew up to be clever?” She kissed his forehead. “Witty?” She kissed his left cheekbone. “Playful?” She kissed the bridge of his nose. “Charming?” She kissed his right cheekbone. “Resilient?” Kiss. “Fiercely protective?” Kiss.“Devastatingly handsome?” Kiss. “With a sweet, loving core?” Kiss. Kiss.

Loki's cheeks flushed. He'd always been more accustomed to brushing aside insults than accepting sincere praise. Sometimes he questioned Sigyn's earnest adoration of him, for how could someone like her find something to love in him? Yet the look in her eyes told him it was true. That despite all he'd done, she still saw good in him. That he was worth admiring. Worth emulating.

“No,” said Loki softly, wrapping his wife, his sons, his world tightly in his arms. “Perhaps not.”


	8. Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the midst of calming Loki after a night terror, Sigyn discovers Narfi and Vali know more about the past than she'd realized. That's when she knows it's time to tell them the truth. Set post- Endgame with Vali and Narfi aged about 8 in Asgardian years.

“Shh, shh,” Sigyn soothed, running her hands up and down Loki's back in deep, even strokes. “Breathe. Just breathe. You're alright.”

In her lap, Loki lay hunched over, his whole body trembling, cowering away from unseen horrors conjured by his mind. His screams gave way to muffled sobs, and his pulse raced under his skin.

She'd woken to Loki trashing in bed beside her, eyes wide and panicked, but not awake. He'd screamed into his pillow, sweat dotting his forehead, hyperventilating as he rushed off the bed and into the bathroom. She'd followed, taking him into her arms, gently rocking him as he clung to her like a drowning man.

“You're safe. You're safe,” she whispered. “Just a nightmare. I'm here, I'm here, I'm-”

“Mama?”

Vali's small voice from the doorway pulled Sigyn's attention away from Loki. She peered out of the bathroom to find her sons standing in the bedroom doorway, eyes wide with concern.

Her hear stopped at the sight. Had Loki's nightmare woken them? How long had they been standing there? What had they heard? She patted Loki's shoulder and stood, rushing out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, obscuring the boys' view. “Boys, what are you doing up at this hour?” She asked, straining to keep her tone calm.

“What's going on?” asked Narfi, straining to look past Sigyn.

“Papa's not feeling very well right now,” Sigyn explained hastily, ushering the twins away from the bedroom. “I'm just attending to him. He'll be alright. Go back to sleep.”

She returned to Loki. The attack had subsided by now, with Loki curled against the wall, chest heaving from deep breaths. She sat beside him, lightly placing a hand on his knee.

“They heard,” Loki said after a moment, when his voice returned.

“Yes,” said Sigyn. “I sent them back to bed. Nothing to worry about.”

“They'll start asking questions.”

“They're just concerned for you, is all.”

Loki closed his eyes. “They'll want to know why their father is weak. Why he cowers at horrors of his own mind. Why he is a monster.”

“You are not a monster, Loki. You are a wounded soul who lose your way.”

“That is not what their peers will say.”

They sat in silence. Loki lost in his thoughts, Sigyn at a loss for words. It was true, they'd have to contend with telling the twins about Loki's past, the horrors he'd endured, and the things he'd done. Loki feared the truth would destroy the love his sons had for him, that he'd no longer be their hero, their protector in their eyes. That they'd turn on him as so many had before. Yet they both knew well that secrets caused far more damage than honesty, and that dark pasts had ways of coming to light no matter how one tried to cover them.

“I should check on them,” Sigyn said after awhile. For though the house was quiet, it did not mean the twins had done as they were told. “Will you be alright?”

Loki nodded faintly, a shuddering sigh escaped his lips, his figure limp against the wall.

As predicted, the twins were not in bed when Sigyn checked their room. The smell of burnt chocolate and cinnamon from the kitchen told her exactly where they were.

“Boys!” Sigyn admonished, finding a mess of chocolate, cocoa powder, cinnamon and milk all over the table. In a center of the table sat a mug, the milk inside bubbling over the rim and down the side as steam rose of the top. “Back to bed!”

“Don't be mad!” said Vali.

“It's for Papa!” said Narfi. “You said he didn't feel well!”

Any exasperation vanished at the admission. The twins had inherited their father's penchant for mischief, but possessed such kind hearts. When they were ill or upset, she often made them hot chocolate to cheer them up. Of course they thought it would cheer their father.

She looked over her sons- Vali, a near perfect replicate of Loki as a young boy, with inky dark hair and soft green eyes. And Narfi, with a mop of reddish-gold curls that matched her own, complete blue eyes and freckles that he'd gotten from her. “I'm sure he will enjoy it very much,” she said as she took a seat between them. She took a deep breath. “But I need to tell you something about Papa.”

Alarmed by their mother's somber tone, Vali and Narvi set aside the mug, watching her.

Sigyn gathered her courage. She knew this moment was coming, when they'd start telling their sons about Loki's history. They would reveal things at age-appropriate times, but never lie. They would not sugar-coat the story, but would make sure they'd tell it in ways their young minds would understand, without scaring them.

That did not make things any easier.

Where even to start? Laufey? Odin? The coronation? Thanos? The attack on Midgard?

Finally Sigyn began. “Your papa has been hurt by many people. And they've caused him pain in ways he's still trying to heal from. And...he's also done things he regrets deeply. When someone is hurt over a very long time, their minds take a while to get better. For Papa, that means he has dreams about the people that hurt him, and sometimes things that remind him of what happened make him upset.”

“But who hurt him?” asked Narfi.

“What kind of things?” asked Vali.

“When your papa was a boy, he was not loved as he should have been by the people who should have loved him. And people who aren't loved often have a lot of hurt feelings that they don't know how to manage, and sometimes they lash out because the hurt makes them think they're not worth being loved. Even though it's not true.”

“You mean Papa's parents didn't love him?” asked Narfi.

Sigyn paused. “I think they didn't know how to love him the way he needed to be loved. They did not listen to him. They kept secret from him that they should have shared. Sometimes people think they love someone, but they really just love what that person does for them. You'll come to understand the difference in time.”

“But you love him, right?” asked Vali. “He had you.”

Sigyn smiled sadly. “The love someone feels for their spouse is very different from the love a parent has for their child. People need different kinds of love in order to feel like they're valued. And your papa and I were already grown when he met, so I wasn't always a part of his life.”

Vali ran his little thumb over the tablecloth, hesitant to ask the next question. “Then what happened?”

Sigyn sighed. “Papa's father-”

“Odin?”

“Yes, Odin. Well, he had many enemies over the years. He was not a nice person, and liked to have everything done his way. He raised your papa and your uncle to compete with each other to make him happy. And one of the ways they tried to make him happy was by destroying one of Odin's enemies. Your papa nearly succeeded.”

Narfi's eyes widened. “Did it work? Was Odin happy then?”

“No,” Sigyn replied, her heart tightening. “Odin never planned to love your papa, no matter what he did. And what papa did was very, very bad. And in the end, he...he left us for a time. I thought he was dead.” Tears threatened to spill as Sigyn recalled that awful day of the Bifrost explosion.

The boys went quiet.

“Your papa lived, but when he left us a very bad man captured him. This man hurt your papa and wouldn't let him go. That bad man made him do things he didn't want to do. And many other innocent people got hurt, too.”

“Did Papa help him hurt people?” Narfi asked, incredulous.

“He didn't want to,” Sigyn hurriedly explained. “But the bad man put him through so much pain...he said he'd do even worse if papa didn't do what he wanted. He was desperate to get away, but he couldn't.”

“Is that where Papa's scars came from?” Vali asked.

“Yes,” Sigyn nodded, astounded at how much of Loki's suffering they'd already witnessed. She'd thought they'd hid it so well. “That man...he's gone now, but sometimes papa remembers what happened, and it scares him.”

“Is that why he cries when he sleeps sometimes?” Narfi asked, a small tear running down his cheek.

“Yes,” Sigyn admitted. “But he is getting much better.”

“Mama?” Vali huddled closer in to her. “What happened to the bad man?”

“Papa got away from him, and came back to us. For a time, we were safe. But...” Sigyn's throat went dry. “The bad man found us and...” Her tears spilled in earnest. “Hurt your papa...so badly I...I thought we'd lost him for good.” She shuddered, recalled the arrival of Thanos and the Black Order.

Behind her, down the hallway, Loki emerged from the bedroom. He took a few tentative steps towards the kitchen, listening to Sigyn's explanation. Fearful, for how could he face the boys once they knew what he'd done?

“But...the bad man is gone, right?” Narfi's eyes went saucer-wide with fear. “How did you get rid of him?”

“Your uncle and your papa met some people who wanted to get rid of the bad man, too. They all worked together to defeat him. Eventually, it worked. So he's now just a nightmare that causes some rough nights.” She reached out, grasping the boys' hands. “But listen. Your papa and I love you both very much and we will never let a bad person like that get anywhere near you boys. You have nothing to fear.”

“Papa must be really tough,” said Vali. “If he got through something like that.”

“Yes,” Sigyn whispered. “Yes, he is.”

“I had help,” said Loki softly, stepping into the kitchen. His eyes dried, his arms shook, and his hair fell in a disheveled mess around his face, yet he stood before his sons and his wife, the deep affection evident on his face. “Your mother is the bravest soul I know,” he draped his arm over her shoulder. “I know not how I would have endured all those years without her. My sanctuary. My balm.” He leaned forward, kissing her forehead before taking a seat beside her.

The twins studied their father for a moment. Then, they stood, moving around the table to embrace Loki from both sides. Loki gasped in disbelief, that they still thought him the strong, loving father, even after what they'd heard. He put his arms around the twins. His eyes met Sigyn's across the table, touched by their faith in him.

“You don't need to worry about the people who didn't love you, Papa,” said Vali. “Because we love you a whole lot.”

Narfi left the kitchen for a moment. He returned carrying his wolf plush toy and held it out to Loki like a sacred prize. “Fenrir is good for scaring away nightmares,” he explained. “You can borrow him any time you want.”

Loki accepted the toy. They'd gotten it when the twins were born and it spent every night in their cradle and now in their beds. “Thank you, Narfi.”

Vali pushed the mug forward. “We made you hot chocolate, too, if you want some.”

“Oh, I would love some, Vali,” said Loki. He took hold of the concoction, taking a sip. He nearly choked as a chunk of cinnamon coated his lips. He strained to swallow the mouthful, coughing as his hand covered his mouth. Sigyn giggled silently.

“Delicious,” Loki remarked, catching Sigyn's eye across the table. “But I would hate for your mother to feel left. I think she'd love to try some, too. Wouldn't you, love?” He gave her a mischievous wink.

Later, once the boys were back in bed, the kitchen mess cleaned, Loki and Sigyn returned to their bedroom. Sigyn caressed Loki's cheek. “I told you, you had nothing to fear in telling them the truth. They know their father's true spirit.”

Loki wrapped her in his arms. “I hope so, love.” He closed his eyes. “I...I am so afraid I will lose them.”

“Oh, Loki,” Sigyn murmured. “You won't lose them. They love you. They know you love them. We're a family.”

The first conversation about Loki's past had gone well. It wouldn't be the last- they'd have more questions, they'd hear things, they'd want more details, and not all of those conversations would go as smoothly as this one did. But it was the first step, and their sons still loved him. For now, that was enough.


	9. Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn is distressed by palace gossip and adjusting to her new role as royalty. Loki is there to provide a little reassurance. Set pre-Thor, with Loki and Sigyn as newlyweds.

Loki slipped through the grand doors of the great library, pleased to see the progress Sigyn and her assistants had made in revitalizing the long-dormant collection, new volumes in, stacks of old tomes awaiting repair, and much less dust along the shelves. He'd been attending to royal matters with his father's council most of the day, but desired a break with his new wife before the afternoon meal. He enjoyed coming by the library to surprise her.

He found her towards the back, near the celestial texts. In an instant he knew something was amiss. Her usual smile and soft hum were missing, and she worked abruptly, not handling the volumes with her usual care.

“Oh dear,” said Loki, approaching. “What have those astronomy books done to vex you?”

She glanced up, the worry in her eyes unceasing. “Oh, Loki! What brings you here?”

“I came to see you, darling.” He produced the purple orchid he'd picked from the garden on his way over. “A flower for my flower.” He tickled the petals against her cheek, drawing a small chuckle.

“It's lovely, Loki.” Sigyn paused her work and took hold of the orchid. “I'll add it to my collection.” On her work table near the back of the library, Sigyn kept a vase full of the flowers Loki brought her on his visits. She walked over to the back table, and Loki followed, puzzled by her reserved demeanor. She normally responded to him with her sweet affection and kisses, not giving a damn if someone was nearby.

“What troubles you, sweetheart?” He asked as she added the orchid to her vase.

She shrugged. “Just some...royalty stuff. It's not important.”

“It must be a bit important for you to be so distressed.” He placed a hand on her wrist and leaned in closer. “We don't have to talk here.”

Sigyn glanced around the long rows of shelves. Her assistants were milling about, putting tomes away, and a few scholars poured over texts here and there. Not a busy setting, but still a very public one. “Back here,” said she, leading Loki through a door along the back wall. It opened to a smaller room with a chaise, a little table, and various books awaiting repairs. Loki sat on the chaise, waiting for Sigyn to begin.

She sighed, taking the spot beside Loki. “Your mother asked me to tea this morning...”

“I see.”

“It seems my demeanor at the play the other night perturbed some of the palace elders...evidently I laughed too loudly.”

Loki suppressed a snarl. Odin's advisors, and a not-insignificant number of court ladies, constantly found fault with Sigyn, and often “requested” that Frigga do their dirty work of speaking to her about it. Usually a small thing, little errors Loki would scarcely notice and could not imagine why anyone would object, but that Sigyn would feel obliged to change. Fidgeting too much during ceremonies, talking too much to the servants at feasts, wearing her hair loose instead of adopting the formal styles of the court, At first she'd resisted somewhat, but the constant criticism weighed on her. Gradually, small concessions were made. She watched her posture, treated the servants less like her friends when the elders were watching, and put her hair up more often than not. Yet it seemed the changes had only emboldened her critics, as more and more faults were brought to her attention, no matter how benign.

“It was a comedy, was it not?” Loki replied. “And how could they hear you over the rest of the crowd?”

“It wasn't the laugh, it was how my shoulders shook,” Sigyn groused. “It's _undignified_.”

“No more undignified than Volstagg's earth-shattering guffaw,” said Loki. “But perhaps we shall issue an edict: No laughter permitted at plays. No plays which might incite laughter. We may only watch the grass grow as our entertainment.”

“That's not even the biggest offense I committed,” Sigyn sighed. “It seems my lip coloring from the play evening was too red. _Slatternly_ , according to Kvasir.”

“He said it was _what_?”

“And I didn't even want to color my lips!” Sigyn snapped. “I only did because not even a fortnight ago, Kvasir told Frigga my _not_ wearing any lip coloring looked _infantile_ and unbecoming of my position!”

Now Loki shared her ire. “Until such time as Kvasir stops insisting on bandying about the palace looking like a decrepit cadaver, I declare his remarks on any one else's appearance null and void.” He paced the back room, angrily brushing aside cobwebs. “Though perhaps a spell turning his lips an eye-watering shade of bright orange will illustrate the point nicely. Or paint his lips _slatternly_ red with some carefully concealed shards of glass-”

“Loki-”

“You are my wife, I will not have you spoken about that way!” For a moment they'd forgotten their place in the library, but a few steps outside the door reminded them of the library shelves just outside. His pacing ceased, and he came back over to trace her shoulder. “Perhaps no glass shards. But Kvasir should not say unkind things about you, nor should anyone.”

“But Frigga spoke on his behalf. Maybe he is right...maybe they're all right about me. I am ill-equipped to be princess. Each time I appear before the court, I never know what they will find wrong with me, but there is always something, ever since we wed...” As she spoke, Loki noted that her charming, plainspoken pastoral dialect, so strong when they'd first met, had faded away into the formalized speech patterns of court. He hadn't noticed its gradual disappearance, yet aside from a few words, it was gone.

“In truth I don't even enjoy meeting Frigga for tea anymore because I'm just waiting for the next kindly phrased criticism,” Sigyn finished, eyes red-rimmed. “It hurts, no matter how lovingly she puts it...”

Loki closed his eyes and let out a long breath, for how her words matched his own feelings. He loved his mother, but she often functioned as a mouthpiece for his father, giving a friendly voice to everything Odin despised about him. “ _If only you would just...” “Have you tried being less sensitive...” “Please don't make this worse...Your father has a purpose...”_ As though Odin couldn't be bothered to have words with him directly, but nevertheless wanted Loki to know he was disappointed. Loki had become so accustomed to the belittlement that it faded into background noise, but this type of treatment hit Sigyn fresh and new. She had all eyes on her, a commoner turned royal, upsetting the status quo by virtue of her mere presence. She'd ruffled feathers through no fault of her own, only via her marriage to him.

“I know, sweetheart.” Loki put his arm over her and nuzzled the top of her head. “They are but words. Neither Kvasir nor anyone else can make us less married. Let them have their petty umbrage. You are my wife and my princess.” Easier said than done, he knew, having grown up an outcast in these halls. But even if she morphed into a perfect picture of an Asgardian princess overnight, those who criticized her would not be satisfied.

A pall cast over Sigyn's face, a look of shame, troubling Loki further. Usually she cheered easily. She gave him a soft smile that failed to reach her eyes.

“Now that that's settled,” Loki tried again. “Why don't you tell me what's _actually_ upsetting you?”

“The ladies were talking...” Sigyn's voice was so quiet Loki had to strain to hear. “It seems they think...this is all a jest.”

“What is a jest?”

“Our marriage!” Sigyn's voice broke. “They...they think you wed me as...as a prank and...and you were never serious about marrying me...and they claim the only reason Odin is allowing this to go on is to punish you...to make you live with the consequences.” She wiped her eyes as the tears fell. “That's what they think of us. That you are heartless and I am your comeuppance.”

“ _Who_ said that?” Loki seethed, anger returning. Unkind words about himself, he could handle. Heartless, amoral, deceitful, he'd heard it all before. Cast as a villain since his first breath, the court only accepted all his worst traits as evidence of his true nature. That he could fall in love, that he wed, not Thor, was the first prince to wed, it clashed with their ironclad idea of who Loki was. Better to cast aspersions and discredit that which challenged their ideas than to accept nuance. All that he could handle.

But to upset and disparage Sigyn, this was an unforgivable matter entirely. Sigyn, who had not a cruel bone in her body, who wed him for no other reason than she loved him, the source of his happiness. She deserved no such cruelty. His mind turned with a few comeuppances of his own, at those who would dare question his love for her.

“Just some of the ladies...they were talking in the garden...” Sigyn replied through her sniffles.

“Such as?”

“Some of Fandral's...admirers,” Sigyn admitted.

“And who else?”

“And I...I heard Sif say she wouldn't be surprised if there was an annulment soon.” Sigyn closed her eyes. “Our wedding was the happiest day of my life and the people who were to share the joy with us think it false! That you didn't mean any of it!”

“But _you_ don't seriously believe that, do you?”

Sigyn glanced over at him. She didn't say a word, but the guilt in her eyes told him what he needed to know.

“ _Sigyn_ ,” Loki felt his own eyes water at her doubts, that she, too, shared the court's cynicism of his actions. “You don't mean that. Tell me you don't mean that!”

“Well, there's so many things wrong with me, why should you marry me?” Sigyn burst. “Just a bit of fun?”

“ _Because I love you!_ ” Loki retorted, stung by her insecurity.

His words finally snapped her out of her spiral. She looked at him tenderly, yet questioning. Loki, at a loss for words, placed his hand against her forehead, drawing out her memories: How they'd met, his training her in magic. Their first kiss. Asking for her hand. Their vows. The wedding night. The tangible mount of evidence that the gossips were dead wrong about him. And her. “Does that look like a jest to you?” he asked. “You know I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said quietly, leaning into his touch.

Loki pulled her into his arms. “Come here, my love.” He wiped a tear off her cheek and kissed the top of her head. “I love you. I married you because I love you. And Odin is terrible at punishments indeed if he thinks spending my life with you is going to upset me.”

“I'm sorry, Loki,” Sigyn said softly. “I should not have gotten so caught up in their words...I started to believe I was as course and vulgar and witless as they said...I didn't see what a prince like you would love about me.”

“It's far too easy to become what others think of you,” Loki replied, massaging her back. He free hand found the pin holding up her hair and he pulled it free, letting her curls loose. “Never let anyone tell you who you are. Or turn you into that which you are not.”

“Thank you,” Sigyn finally bestowed the warm, deep kissed he'd been anticipating all morning. “Never again will anyone make me doubt our love.” She ran her hands over his arms. “I am so glad to be with you.”

A knock on the door. “Princess Sigyn?”

“Yes?”

“The midday meal is served,” the servant behind the door replied. “You are expected in the dining hall, along with the prince.”

“We'll be along, thank you!” Sigyn called. She turned to Loki, dropping her head into his shoulder. “Back to the prying eyes and whispers.”

Loki helped Sigyn to her feet. “Let them pry,” he murmured. “The only whispers worth heeding will be the ones I bestow upon your ear.”

“Then I hope to hear many more whispers,” Sigyn replied as she opened the door, “For better to drown out the others.”

Loki cupped her chin. “You will have them.”


	10. Blame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to New Asgard stirs up dormant feelings of loss and regret for Loki and Sigyn. Set post-EG.

This was not good.

Not good at all.

They'd returned from New Asgard, in need of supplies and to provide some assistance to the small fishing village. Thor, of course, was nowhere in sight, and Loki brushed aside the slight, focusing instead on improving their defenses while Sigyn took stock of their new archive, ensuring their ancient texts were well-preserved and accessible. From the moment they descended into the rocky coastline dotted with ramshackle huts, a melancholia set over Sigyn. Though she did not show it to their hosts, Loki sensed the palpable gloom, in the heaviness of her eyes, the small, thin smile, her unusually quiet demeanor replacing her typically effusive chatter, her eagerness to return to their cottage instead of lingering.

It was the right choice, not staying in New Asgard, but rather finding their own, secluded land from which to rebuild their lived. Loki needed to be away from the throne, the history, the troubled family dynamics to focus on healing. And Sigyn, despite the guilt she felt over the decision, had grief and pain of her own from which to recover. They'd done well, the cottage, the garden, providing magic lessons here and there, finding their own way.

After putting away their supplies, she'd quietly shut herself away in the sunroom where she did her work, and held her lessons. Alarmingly, she'd closed the door instead of leaving it half-opened, and closed the curtains, closing herself from view. Hours later, and still she did not emerge.

Now Loki stood before the closed door, hearing a muffled sob on the other side. His heart ached the way it always did when she was upset, and the urge to enter the room and take her in his arms, fight off whatever entity caused her distress, overtook his senses. He raised a fist to knock, but his brother's words echoed in his mind:

_This was your doing._

_You really are the worst, brother._

And Odin:

_Everywhere you go there is war, ruin, and death._

He lowered his arm, studying his opened hands.

Those very hands, which had placed Surtur's crown in the eternal flame. Which lead to the destruction of the only home she ever knew.

How could he think himself worthy of embracing her, he who bore all the blame for every awful thing that had happened to her since they'd wed?

The miscarriage.

Losing him the first time.

New York.

Losing him to the dungeons.

Asgard's ruin.

Thanos and the Black Order attacking their ship, in search of the Tessaract. Half their people slaughtered right in front of her. Corvus Glaive finding her helping the innocents to safety before catching and dragging her before Thanos, the awful blade pressed against her throat.

The snap.

All signs pointed to Loki.

He was the cause of her distress.

He closed his eyes. It was true. This was all his fault.

He loved her so much, yet all he'd done was destroy her life, piece by piece.

He wished she'd yank the door open, fly into a rage, spill out all the resentment, spite, and blame she secretly harbored toward him, call him every ugly thing she could imagine. Unleash all the bile and venom she'd built up. Admit she despised him. And leave him, just as everyone else had. A tirade he'd suspected would come eventually. To envision such a moment broke him, but it was no less than he deserved.

He backed away, leaving the muffled sobs behind as he turned, fleeing the cottage. He stopped at the edge of their land, on the outskirts of Sigyn's little garden. He looked over their home, a pathetic facsimile of the life they used to have, shrouded in the overcast clouds. How could he have been so foolish to think this would amend for all the wrongs, the pain? It did nothing.

In time, the sunroom door opened. From the corner he saw Sigyn standing on the porch, watching him. An old, green cloak of his draped over her shoulders. Too far away to read her face, he turned away, afraid to face the rage he expected.

Seconds later, her arms wrapped around his torso, the soft weight of her body against his, her head resting against his back. Her sweet embrace struck him with a force of longing and agony that threatened to double him over.

She'd never given up on him, stayed by his side through all his madness, his treachery. She never turned her back, and never would. She was the best thing in his entire wretched existence.

And what had he done for her in return? Ruin everything she held dear.

“You're suffering,” he said softly.

A shuddering sigh into his back.

“I am grieving,” Sigyn replied, nuzzling the spot between his shoulder blades. “I felt such a longing for the Asgard I knew when we went to the village. We were such a proud people, now just handful left, at the mercy of Midgard's good graces. I should be grateful, I suppose, that we're alive. Yet it hurts, that we've lost so much.”

“No,” said Loki. “I cost you so much.”

“Loki,” Sigyn soothed. “You mustn't blame yourself-”

“Why?” Loki snapped, shaking himself from her grip as he turned to her. “Why shouldn't I blame myself? I summoned Surtur with my own hands! I brought Thanos right to our door! I have done so much more to ruin Asgard than any foe could dream of! _I_ am the reason for your misery, Sigyn. You weep because of _me._ ”

For a long moment neither spoke. A drizzle fell from the clouded sky, yet neither made an effort to move, allowing the rain to cover them.

“Odin's lies. Thor's arrogance. Hela's bloodlust. Thanos' tyranny. My naivete. If you look hard enough, there is plenty of culpability to share,” said Sigyn with a sad smile. “Yet only Loki bares the burden of the blame. Only Loki is punished. But I am tired of pointed fingers. It will not fix what is broken.”

Loki furrowed his brow. “What do you mean, your naivete?”

“I loathed myself, after you fell,” Sigyn admitted. “I kept asking myself, what should I have done? What did I miss? What would have stopped you letting go? Even now, I keep thinking, perhaps there was moment in time, before all the madness, before the coronation, where I could have made things better for you...or figured things out sooner...it's like a wound that will not heal. I cannot stop needling at it.” She sighed. “I love you so much, yet to miss how deeply you were hurting...I failed you, Loki.”

“You did no such thing,” said Loki with a rueful shake of his head. “I never should have abandoned you.”

Sigyn stepped closer, reaching up to caress his face. “I had never known such pain as that day I lost you. My world shattered. There are shards I never got back. But I was never angry with you, Loki. I never blamed you for my grief. I only wished you'd trusted enough to share your pain with me. That hurt most of all. That after all we'd been though you still doubted my devotion.”

Loki looked down at his arm, recalling that sick, horrified feeling when it turned blue right before his eyes, shattering everything he thought he knew about himself, his place, his trust. His own family allowed him to live a lie, what other deceptions hid just beneath his nose? He'd so feared the falsities extended even to Sigyn. He'd hidden everything from her.

“You were never the cause of my anger, nor my pain, Sigyn.” He tore his gaze from his arm, fixing his eyes on her. The one thing in the nine realms that truly mattered now. “None of my troubles ever related to you.”

Sigyn wiped at her eyes. “I just...never want to let you down again. I never want to lose your trust.”

“Darling...” Loki's voice trailed off. It was rare for words to fail him, but to know she'd blamed herself for so long for his madness left him at a loss. Instead, he took her hand, lightly running his thumb over her knuckles. “Come here.” His arms circled over and around her body, closing the distance between them. He let his embrace tell her everything he couldn't express.

Sigyn leaned against his body. “I did not come out here to hash out blame...” she said softly. “I came because I needed someone with whom to share my grief, if you'll allow me.”

Their eyes met, both awash in pain and regret. A mutual acknowledgment of loss, guilt, and grief, before Sigyn buried her face in Loki's arms again, unleashing her pain with the one soul who could give her solace. There in the rain, Loki held her, allowing her nearness to quell the storms within him. 

“I'm sorry, Sigyn,” Loki murmured. “I am sorry you lost your home.”

“Loki, do you not know?” She whispered into his skin. “You _are_ my home.”


End file.
